Kyra's Memoir: Haunted
by Amani07
Summary: As Kyra goes through conversion, memories and thoughts begin to resurface of how she came to live a life of pain, fear, and death.
1. Conversion

**Authors Note:**

So I wrote this a while back and did some editing. This is my version of how Kyra became "a new animal"

WARNING: May be graphic for some viewers. Discretion is advised.

And once again, I own NOTHING but these wheels running in my head. Hope you enjoy.

**Kyra**

**Conversion **

I'm strapped to a machine but I do not struggle. The only person I ever truly cared about is gone-dead-so why should I struggle. Why should I not accept this new fate? I hear his voice, _"Fight! You are stronger than this. FIGHT!" _I push the thoughts away. I know he'd hate me for giving in so easily, but all I am doing is surviving. It's what I've always done.

I feel the sharp pain of the needles drive into the sides of my neck and then another surge of pain as the conversion begins. A wave of painful memories I've long since buried begin to wash over me.

The process of conversion lasts no more than a few minutes, but in those few minutes it feels like a lifetime, a lifetime of pain to be taken only to be replaced by another; a lifetime of pain that takes me back six years ago when my life ended and began all at once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: ****_It's been TOO long._**

**Jacqueline**

Lupus Five: It's a barren and over industrialized planet that has one of the best space transportation industries in the Conga System. Everyone is always coming and going; always running towards or away from something. "Slum City" I called it, full of bars and brothels. Prostitutes calling out to the men, eager to earn money that will feel their empty bellies. No place for a child to be, yet there I was, a 12 year old girl living amongst the scum, looking for my father.

I don't remember much about my mother. I was still only a child when she left. I can't blame her for leaving-I can't stand living here myself.-I only blame her for not taking me with her. Father would say that I looked like her, same fair skin, green eyes and long dark curls. I guess that's why he was always sad, I reminded him too much of the wife he couldn't hold on to. Often when he's had too much to drink he'd say she was a whore, and then he'd slap me, saying I wasn't his child. I can't recall what he was like before she left but I do know I liked him better when he was too broke to drink because at least then, he wasn't beating me.

It's late. I shouldn't be out at this hour, but I had to find my father, make sure he's not lying in a ditch again. Usually I'd find him on the road halfway home, but not this time, which was unusual even for him. I've never been on this side of town this late before so I continue cautiously, aware of my surroundings and the crude remarks that are spat my way from barely clothed women.

It wasn't long that I came across my father's favorite pub. Crossing the road I observed attentively as two young drunken men were thrown out, followed by an older less happy man, my father. I listened at their snide remarks and whistles as I passed them by. "Hello little girl." One drunken man slurred, grabbing hold of my left wrist. The tonic stench invaded my nostrils, bringing forth a nauseous and stinging sensation.

"Let me go" I yelped.

"Don't you know that it's dangerous for little girls to be out her all alone?" he snickered as I began to struggle. His friend, a smaller man, smiled as he reached behind me, grabbing a lock of hair and twisting it as he slowly bent to smell the fragrance.

"I'm not alone, that's my father" I pointed out.

The large man's eyes widened as he looked to the man a few feet away. "Dad," I called out. "Help me," I cried beating at the man's chest with my free hand. But he made no gesture to help.

"Is this your kid?" he asked, grabbing tight on both hands now.

My father looked at me with saddened eyes glazed over with drunkenness. "No."

"Daddy?" I questioned, confused, my throat beginning to tighten. "No." I looked to the man in front of me, his face full of lust. He smiled. "Let me go or else" I warned.

The smaller man behind me whispered into my ear, "'Or else' what?" He chuckled. I looked to my dad once more, his shame drawing his eyes to the floor "Or I'll scream." But before I could, the smaller man clasped his hand over my mouth, muffling the sounds of my screams.

"You want some of this," the burly man asked motioning to me. My father just shook his head. "Keep watch will ya?"

"Sure" he replied, putting his hands in his pockets, he turned his back to us. Tears streamed down my eyes. I had never felt more hatred for him as I did now.

Quickly the two dragged me back behind the bar towards a dark alley. I kicked and pulled trying with all my strength to get away, but to no avail. As the sweaty hand of the smaller red headed man began to slip away, I clamped my teeth down as hard as I could against the fleshy skin. Crying out the man pulled his hand away. "FUCK!"

"What the hell man?" the other questioned, my wrists still bound within his grasp.

"The bitch bit me." He glared at me, his eyes no longer looking hazy from the drink but full of rage. "You got her?"

"Ya," the other replied, clasping my hands behind my back, facing me to the redhead. I struggled, screamed, and kicked once more when a fist came flying towards me.

The pain was instant, causing my head to spin. I felt a tear in my mouth, then the throbbing as blood began to spill away from my lips. The bigger man standing behind me clasped his hand over my bloodied mouth, pressing down, increasing the pain. I watched helplessly as the one I bit began to take off his shirt. Looking down into my eyes as I tried to look away he asked, "You still awake? Good. I want you to feel everything we're going to do to you."

I whimpered. "Oh, don't worry," whispered the bigger man, "You're going to enjoy it." The other chuckled and licked his lips as he began to undo his pants.

I braced myself for the pain, the pain that would thrust into my very core. And as it did my senses seemed to heighten. The faces of the men became clearer in the dark. I could feel the sweat slicking against my bruised skin, smell the stench of rotting teeth and drink as they groaned. And all the while my father watched. I cried, unable to move or scream. Wishing there was any other sound to block that of the grunting men.


End file.
